One good thing (not the only one) of staying in this part of the world is that the Eid holidays are just as long as I like them. Long enough to get me completely rejuvenated and short enough to hold my attention. This year I did a bit of travelling - and I quite surprised myself by choosing a hill station. Emphasis on hills. Like a friend insists, whatever those were I saw, they were definitely not mountains. Nevertheless, it was a deviation all the same - from my routine choice of chill spots. I chose hills over the sea. A virgin little hill station called Munnar in place they say is God's Own Country. (Not quite sure why any other place would be God's Borrowed Country anyway?!? Besides Kerela is NOT a country - hear hear!) However issuing yet another poetic license, I have to agree that the place was breathtaking.
The distant blue hills, the green valleys closer, the old mossed up rocks, the unknown trickle of water that becomes a waterfall, the rich green tea estates, the constant slight drizzle, the steep bending roads, the dark overcast sky, the old bunglow type guest house, the wooden ornate furniture, the fresh spiced brewing tea and the warmth of the fire. It left me slightly moved inside. Probably heightened by the lack of expectation. The first few hours I think I just swallowed in the air that smelt so familiar in a land I'd never been before. Reminding me of my childhood when family excursions to the more popular and near raped Northern hill stations of India. Quite a zilch compared to this place I suddenly found myself in. Though I agree, much would have to do with the difference of age and the capability to appreciate the surroundings.
Over the next 3 days that I spent in the place, I think I found new silly little things that gave me highly illogical (to the point of insane) ecstasy. Some little yellow flower with dew drops on it or a little ravine that I believe only I knew existed, a small little cavern that led to a much larger cave and drops of warm water that trickled down ice cold rocks. Logic tells me there must have been a million other people who found the same things I believe I discovered. But somehow nobody wanted to taint this place with a rude Bunty Loves Babli - Jan 1987. It was all left untouched, unscathed by every visitor for the next one to feel as powerful as (s)he did when they make the discovery. Quite God-like I must say. No wonder they call it God's Own Country.
The distant blue hills, the green valleys closer, the old mossed up rocks, the unknown trickle of water that becomes a waterfall, the rich green tea estates, the constant slight drizzle, the steep bending roads, the dark overcast sky, the old bunglow type guest house, the wooden ornate furniture, the fresh spiced brewing tea and the warmth of the fire. It left me slightly moved inside. Probably heightened by the lack of expectation. The first few hours I think I just swallowed in the air that smelt so familiar in a land I'd never been before. Reminding me of my childhood when family excursions to the more popular and near raped Northern hill stations of India. Quite a zilch compared to this place I suddenly found myself in. Though I agree, much would have to do with the difference of age and the capability to appreciate the surroundings.
Over the next 3 days that I spent in the place, I think I found new silly little things that gave me highly illogical (to the point of insane) ecstasy. Some little yellow flower with dew drops on it or a little ravine that I believe only I knew existed, a small little cavern that led to a much larger cave and drops of warm water that trickled down ice cold rocks. Logic tells me there must have been a million other people who found the same things I believe I discovered. But somehow nobody wanted to taint this place with a rude Bunty Loves Babli - Jan 1987. It was all left untouched, unscathed by every visitor for the next one to feel as powerful as (s)he did when they make the discovery. Quite God-like I must say. No wonder they call it God's Own Country.
